narrative poem | Reflections on the Teche

Posts Tagged ‘narrative poem’

This Photo Wants to be a Poem: Sidewalk Monk

Posted in Photography, Poetry, This Photo Wants to be a Poem, tagged #poemsofpresence, #smallpoems, Croatia, Dubrovnik, Franciscan monk, free verse, Molly Hogan, narrative poem, This Photo Wants to be a Poem on July 10, 2024| 15 Comments »

Franciscan monk feeds the pigeons, Dubrovnik by Molly Hogan

My fellow Inkling (writing group) poet-teacher Molly Hogan went on a fabulous trip to Croatia, Slovenia, and Ireland. She blessed me and all her Facebook friends with lots of amazing photos. I was compelled by this photo. It takes me back to my favorite musical of all time, The Sound of Music. It also reminds me of a kind monk I knew growing up. He was my father’s best friend. His Benedictine name was Brother Anselm. He was witty and wise and an incredible organist.

My poem is a narrative free verse. I wanted to tell a story. I have fond memories of visiting Bill (Brother Anselm) at his monastery in St. Benedict, Louisiana.

Consider writing with me today. Leave a small poem in the comments. Remember this is a drafting space, so kindly write encouraging responses to other writers.

Brother Anselm

Walking into the woods
surrounding the Abbey,
Brother Anselm and I spoke freely.
Our walk was a prayer.

We talked of nothing in particular
as his brown robes swished and swayed,
a comforting blanket of humble access
to a stream of still water.

He reminded me that the holy
is not always quiet. Our voices
echoed among the tall pines,
laughter shaking the ground.

He told me that time was our friend.
Use it wisely and with intention.
Bless the forest with reverent presence
and God will grant you peace.

Margaret Simon, draft

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Spice of Life: The Artists

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing, tagged #beingmamére, Major Jackson, narrative poem, The New Yorker on September 5, 2023| 17 Comments »

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.

I often find that when I read poetry, I am inspired to write poetry. Yesterday I read the poems in August 28, 2023 issue of the The New Yorker. I loved Major Jackson’s poem The Nature of Memory. In this poem, he describes a happy memory using the specific names of his children. His final line grabbed me: “I hope they love themselves loud as that day,/ light-drunk, kicking up sand. I opened my notebook and poured out the story of Sunday afternoon as I observed my grandchildren Leo (4.5) and Stella (2.5), and their friend Nils, side-by-side creating their own art under the watchful yet permissive eye of my daughter. Did I ever allow such free art in my own children? I hope so.

Love Themselves Loud

I watch the side-by-side
play of toddlers. Leo like a turtle
crouched on the table laser-focused
drawing a rocket heading to earth, a round
blue and green ball. Stella paints her hands
pressing layers of color into a star of hands.
She moves

to her feet making them pink
like her beach shoes. Nils beside
her paints his hands and feet green–
his body a canvas for a green monster.

Later they come together
in toddler madness jumping from the top bunk.
“Only jump onto the bean bag.”
No one is injured before the game changes
to Lego building and pizza.

I hope they love themselves loud
as this day painting a landscape,
making their mark.
Margaret Simon, draft